The Exploits of a Small Town Cop
by AmandaByron
Summary: In a combined work between Amanda  the best lol  and someone else, this tells the epic, heartwarming story of a gruff old cop whose heart is warmed by the arrival of his daughter and all the love in his life.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: soooo it is here AS PROMISED! the twilight fanfiction! I am working with my friendly friend Bradley Walton from school I am plotting and he is writing the story. also, a note to pierre: if you see this, and you like it, can we talk? because I realy really think we need to. I like you ;) a lot!

also twilight = best book ever!

Once upon a time, in the state of Forks, Washington DC, the rain was pouring with a rhythm that conversed with the deep tragic sadness state of the human soul. What is a soul? What are we, as a species? These are the questions that all philosophies ponder. We have come up with answers we do not know are true, or we distract ourselves with eating French fries so we do not have to face the ultimate question of why we are in Forks and not Spoons. This question is hunting the forest where the trees scratch the clouds' itches, the ocean where the minnows swim like fish, the streets where the people dance.

But there was one man who was not thinking any of these questions. He was standing alone on the sidewalk of his street, shielded from the rain by an umbrella the color of his flannel shirt, his drooping mustache covering his thin lips mouth. He stared into the rain, sullen, contemplating. the drops slid down his leather, baggy cheeks like drops of water, lenses through which his soul was reflected.

Charlie Swan inhaled a cigarette and blew smoke into the misty Washington air as the wind blew the ends of his flannel shirt in the wind. His parents would not like him smoking, but he didn't care. He was too upset. No, upset was not the rite word. Annoyed. That was the word.

His daughter, Bella Swan, was coming to stay with him. He didn't need the responsibility. Making the girl had been fun, although his mother wouldn't have liked to hear him say it, but raising her? That was a different question. He'd been more than happy to hand her over to her simpering bitch of a mother when she finally packed up, but here she was, coming back.

Charlie blew another cloud of smoke into the air which rolled off into the wind like a plume of smoke. He sighed. He didn't need responsibility. He was a man, and a smart, strong one at that, with the potential for so much more than this. He could run this whole town, this whole country, and instead he was stuck babysitting some teenage brat. But that's beside the point. He smoked another cigarette with extra vigor. He saw that the river beside him flowed like a torrent of water. How annoying he thought. They should dam that river with some stones so that he doesn't have to listen to the incessant flow.

"Hey," he said to a passerby in a long, olive green coat. "I'm strapped for cash. I only need thirty more cents to catch the train back home. It's my daughter's birth day." He smiled wistfully, chuckled a bit. "Just turning three."

The stranger's brow creased like a washboard. Crossing his arms against the cold, the man dug in his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. With a smile, he handed it to Charlie.

"Oh, no, sir," Charlie said, shaking his head and attempting to look ashamed. "I couldn't—"

"No, I insist," the man said, picking up his briefcase and starting towards the local convenience store. "Buy your daughter something nice."

Charlie shook his head. "Thank you, mister." Once the man's back was turned, Charlie shook his head and started down the sidewalk, shoving the bill into his pocket with all the other money he'd made from this game he liked to play. "Idiot," he muttered, slouching toward the police station.

When he reached the squat building with the peeling paint, he stepped through the door, dripping like a wet man, and shook the water out of his hair.

"Hey, Charlie," one of the other cops said. An acne-ridden new recruit, barely worthy of being on the force, ugly as all hell but still receiving a paycheck.

"Hey there," Charlie said with a smile for this naïve young drain on society. "Been a while since I saw your face." the repulsive young officer shook his head like an inexperienced cop on the beat. My bushy moustache felt warm on my supple skin. The young barely-man stared soullessly into my eyes. What did this whippersnapper think he was? Me? Well, I lit another cigarette to calm my hatred toward this barely human life form. "How's life been treating you?"

His grin was huge, split his ugly face wide open. "Oh, great, great. And with you?"

"Fine, thanks," I say, patting him on his probably equally acne-ridden back. "Take care of yourself, now."

"Oh, I will, sir," the dolt stutters. "But, uh, one thing, boss."

I force myself to keep the disdain from showing on my face as I slowly turn to face him, plastering on a friendly grin. "What's that, son?"

"Your daughter," he said, swallowing. "She said she was waiting for hours at the airport in the rain. We tried to call you, but, ah, you didn't pick up. So"—a sickeningly proud grin—"I brought her on over here for you."

I'd been at the bar, keeping track of how many girls I could feel up before they threw me out. I wish my daughter had stayed at that airport and drowned in the downpour, and would like to see this idiot suffer a worse fate for picking her up.

"Thanks a lot, son," I say. "You'll sure go far in here."

The new recruit smiles stupidly.

"She in the back room?" I ask with fake joviality.

"Yup, she is, sir," he says with the hint of a list. "Waiting for you."

I nod, grin, inhale another cigarette. "Thanks, son."

I grit my teeth, sigh, and, hand on the doorknob of the door to the back room, prepare myself to deal with another one of the sick, simpering idiots that populate this town. Shoot me, please.

I wait exasperatedly. I look back into the corner of the room dreading the moment when my slut of a daughter tortures me with her horrid presence. I hear a knocking on the back door. I am repulsed when I behold that thing they call my daughter. With all my might I go across the room and swallow my hatred. "Hey" I say.

Bella looks up at me through dull, squinty eyes. "Oh. Hey, Dad."

I inhale a cigarette and motion to the door. "We better get going, huh?"

Her head bobs up and down like that of a nodding cow. She stands to her feet, tossing her limp, dead hair like it's worth anything. "Okay."

She starts walking towards the exit door.

She's gotten tall, my daughter has, with long, pale legs on full display in short shorts unwise for the weather in this area. Last time I saw her, she was a skinny little ugly girl. Now, she's a curvy, tall ugly girl. Let's all applaud the changing times, hm?

As we exit out into the rain, we pass by a golden-haired, broad-shouldered god of a teenager. His eyes peruse first Bella, then me. I nod stiffly at him. Stupid teenagers.

A/N: sooo opinions? like I said, this is a group project, so if this is not up to your usual expectations for my riding, it is NOT MY FAULT! LOL so be nice to Bradley it is his first fanfiction. SO. REBOOS and wait for chapter 2!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: REBOOOS!

So, I go home with my "daughter" and start cooking diner. It will be a bad dinner tonight, but I do not care about my b*tch of a daughter because she is annoying bratty and winy.

"Hey, Dad," Bella says, face all blank and pale and lifeless, "what's for dinner?"

"Why don't you make it yourself?" I ask, pulling my bushy eyebrows into a glare, pulling open a cabinet door and taking out two bottles of beer. I toss her one and pull open mine with my teeth. "Or are you just going to move in here and not contribute at all?"

"No, no," Bella mutters, looking at the floor. "Of course."

As she takes out some pasta and puts it in the sink, I take a long, deep sip from the bottle. If my mother could see me now, she'd throw a fit. I can just see her face. But she's not here. It's not up to her. It's my life.

My disappointing offspring takes a gulp from her bottle and instantly spits it into the pasta. "Dad, what is this?"

"It's beer," I say. What else would it be?

"Oh," She says, stirring the pasta. "Right."

I look at her with a look of pure disgust. How can a "human" reject such a beverage? She can no longer live in my house. She is like a tumor. I have to remove this disgusting tumor from my life, but how? Right now, I needed to feed the slug. I throw together some moldy bread and some milk past its expiration date. She won't tell the difference. Her taste buds are like burnt charcoal. "Do you like expired milk?" I ask. "Ew." she says horribly. I focus on her acne. What a disgusting face. How could any man set his eyes on such a monstrosity? If I were a boy her age I would stuff her in a locker. What a B*&ch.

Bella eats her dinner, chewing the food as slow as a teenage girl chewing. Disgusting. I shake my head and go into the living room, leaving her to finish her meal in silence. Why did I agree to let her stay here in the first place?

Oh. Right. Because I'm a f*cking moron.

A knock on the front door. I get to my feet, cursing under my breath. What asshole is coming at this time of night? If I had a gun, I'd be bringing it with me about now. Some lives are just not worthwhile.

But when I open the door, I'm glad I didn't bring one of my many weapons. Standing on the front porch, the sun sparkling off of her skin, is an extremely hot young woman, with long brown hair and blue eyes that take up half her face.

"Hello," I say.

"Hello," the girl says with a wide grin that stretches across her face like a smile. "I'm Alice."

Obnoxious bitch bothering me at this time of night. "How can I help you."

The girl's grin widens. "Do you want to have sex?"

If my mother could see me, she'd sure as heckfire disapprove. But she's not watching. I open the door wider. "Please, come in."

She comes in like the prostitute whore she is. She smiles again with her annoying cat grin. Her big teeth look like rotten marshmallows. She sits opposite me with her slutty dress buttoned up. Why won't she take it off? Her only in life is to pleasure men like me. I want to hug her all night. She looks at me intently with her brown eyes that look like sewage.

"Wow," she says. "You're really handsome."

"Why, thank you, Ms. Cullen." Idiot probably says that to every guy.

And then we start smooching.

A/N: Okay, so, me and Bradley worked REALLY hard on this caper, so pleasepleasePLEASE reboo!


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